She had learned when to speak and when to be silent, and she oftener
chose silence. But she had never ceased gazing on the world with
keen eyes, and reflecting upon its virtues and vagaries, its depths
and its shallows, with the help of a clear and temperate brain.
By her fire she sat, an attracting presence, though only fine,
strong lines remained of beauty ravaged by illness and years. The
"polished forehead" was furrowed by the chisel of suffering; the
delicate high nose springing from her waxen, sunken face seemed
somewhat eaglelike, but the face was still brilliant in its intensity
of meaning and the carriage of her head was still noble. Not able
to walk except with the assistance of a cane, her once exquisite
hands stiffened almost to uselessness, she held her court from
her throne of mere power and strong charm. On the afternoons when
people "ran in to warm themselves" by her fire, the talk was never
dull and was often wonderful. There were those who came quietly
into the room fresh from important scenes where subjects of weight
to nations were being argued closely--perhaps almost fiercely.
Sometimes the argument was continued over cups of perfect tea near
the chair of the Duchess, and, howsoever far it led, she was able
brilliantly to follow. With the aid of books and pamphlets and
magazines, and the strong young man with the nice voice, who was
her reader, she kept pace with each step of the march of the world.
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